


melt my frozen heart

by coffeecrowns



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Antartica, Ben Franklin's nonsense, Blowjobs, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Global Warming, M/M, Multi, Past Infidelity, Penguins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:39:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9519035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeecrowns/pseuds/coffeecrowns
Summary: Disgraced National Geographic reporter Alexander Hamilton is sent to Antarctica by his boss Washington for six weeks to put together a story and redeem himself in the eyes of his co-workers. He's ready for anything.Except for Aaron Burr and the penguins.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Me: You have a ton of school stuff to do, a chapter of inimitable that won't come out right no matter what you do and you're gonna use frozen and a coke commercial to write Hamburr???
> 
> Me, at one am: yes

The thing about traveling to Antarctica is you take everything with you when you leave. Nothing you bring or use or produce will pollute the frozen desert. And everything you bring with you comes back, but none of it has the same impact or feelings or anything once you come back.

Woolen socks for instance, don’t have the same intrinsic worth until you take them to -80 celsius. Instant hot chocolate is nice in New York winters, but after a long day out on the ice, it tastes magical. (Alexander, having learnt the ropes on his last trip, brought along some peppermint schnapps to help keep himself extra toasty.)

If there's one good thing about his gig with national geographic (which is like picking between hyperbole and synecdoche for his favourite literary device), is they’ve sent him to the best places. And taught him the value of photojournalism. And Washington is very politely keeping him out of New York as much as possible, which is beyond kind, but probably strategic. No one needs to be on the magazine's ass about having a top reporter (who publicly cheated on his now ex-wife) hypocritically taking shots at Trump.

So after being chewed out by his sister in law, editor Angelica Schuyler, losing the respect of all the junior reporters, including the one with an adorable but innocent crush, John Laurens, (he didn’t, he wouldn’t make the same mistake _again_ , he regrets it, oh god how he regrets it), he keeps his name out of things, lets other take credit. He’s on his own in a strange continent. Which isn’t new. But what is new, is that for the first time in a while, there’s attachments, Eliza has found someone new, she doesn’t want him to email her or snapchat snapchat her or buy cute things for her.

Washington sends him with six weeks to “come up with something.” “It’s a golden opportunity, Alexander. Clear your head. Come up with something clever. I know you have it in you, son.”

Which is big of Washington. Trying to make him smile, even a bit, the older man has continued, “Besides, this way, you finally have been to every continent. You get to cross that of the old bucket list, eh?”

It wasn’t like there was an argument to be had. Alexander barely had the energy to argue. Maybe Washington was trying to goad him into a little more information. But he didn’t. It’d been six months since the divorce finalized. A little over a year since he’d started sleeping on the couch or in the office or in any other place but home. He did his job, avoiding arguments as best he could.

But his mistake was following him. Antarctica, with all its frozen charm and clean slate seemed fitting. Any mistake wouldn’t fester on that continent. For once, it was nice for there to be no real legacy at stake,

He told himself he was ready. He was ready to reinvent himself. He needed a story, a good story, something to put him back on the map. On the plane to Argentina, he felt the nerves, but good nerves. Nerves meant he had something going for him. Once he boarded the charter plane, along with three scientists, he found himself babbling. They were interested in his work. He was more interested in theirs. They posed for pictures. They were measuring shifts in ice formations over thousands of years to track heating and cooling patterns of the earth. Going for definite proof that global warming was happening, and on a much more severe scale than anticipated. They definitely would agree to show him around. He got the names, James (the one who joked his childhood doctors would kill him if they knew what his job entailed), Jay (who went by his last name for indiscernible reasons that would have the three giggling before they could explain), and Franklin (who also went by his last name because of a military background, and then made the comment that might have been a joke, “only get called Ben on summer solstice orgies”, except Jay and Madison nodded solemnly.) Franklin also inexplicably has a polaroid. “You can really only use it inside but there’s no hackable digital evidence,” he says, like that doesn’t create more questions than answers. Alexander wasn’t fazed, at least, not by the implied orgies, considering it couldn’t be anything but consenting adults, half frozen scientists could be as weird as they’d like. He could handle anything the fucking continent could throw at him.

  


He was not prepared for Aaron Burr. Or the penguins.

His second day. His _second_ day, 5:45 am, and some asshole finishes the coffee vat in the cafeteria by filling his super thermos that must hold at least a goddamn litre of coffee. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” hisses, _hisses_ , Alexander, “What are doing that's so important you think you're entitled to the last of the _fucking coffee_!?”

(Had he been more aware of things, he would know it was the first real angry he’s felt in months.)

The man turns around. He’s in a flattering pink thermal undershirt with a fleece vest open in dark maroon. There is no reason for him to look so goddamn gorgeous, especially in _fleece_ and he is fucking gorgeous. His dark eyes smoulder, his closely cropped black curls suits his beautiful angular face. Fuck, Alexander’s pissed off a goddamn angel.

“My names Aaron Burr,” says the gorgeous stranger. “And my penguins need me, so I need this. There’s caffeinated tea or you can wait. I’m not in a lab all day so I can’t exactly brew this stuff all day.”

(Alexander quickly files away that knowledge with the hope of being able make himself a cup or four in James/Jay/Franklin's lab.)

Eloquently, Alexander responds with, “Penguins? Are you shitting me?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, a sip of coffee ( _taunting him,_ more like), the settles his face into bland half smile.

“I’m sorry you find my work unimportant. Odd, when we both must know penguins must sell well.”

Alexander wants to murder the guy. Aaron Burr is going to find himself dead in some frozen canyon being eaten by his own precious penguins. Aaron Burr will not talk to him in a patronizing voice. Aaron Burr-

Aaron Burr walks away from him, leaving him fuming in place. Fine. Whatever. Five weeks and five days to go. He will just make sure to be at the caf at five thirty. He doesn’t need Aaron Burr.   


 

He needs Aaron Burr. It's not that Jay and James and Franklin haven’t been helpful, because, they have. The information they have is damning. “We’ve never had anything like this before. We can go back millions of years with ice samples. The only changed variable is humans.”

It's gorgeous words, damning words. Except, “We’ve published this sort of findings before. We were less sure then, but this won’t convince anyone who isn’t convinced. This evidence is good and solid, but it isn’t flashy. It doesn’t convince anyone who doesn’t believe.”

Alexander won’t be accused of preaching to the choir. He needs a new angle. He needs to see the impact of warming in tangible ways.  The only things living on this sheet of ice are some scientists, crazy people, and the penguins.

“Aaron Burr is the one to talk to if you want to see effects for yourself,” says Franklin, giving him a look. He’s been here a week and he already hates Franklin's looks. They say _I know something you don’t know_ which should be obvious under the circumstances.

“You could try Jefferson, but he’s, I hate to talk bad of a scientist, but he’s an amature. I don’t even think he has an undergrad in zoology. And you, my small friend, will find him intolerable.”

“How do you figure that that?” asks Alexander, because he does try to have conversations with people before calling them names in his stories based on mostly unbiased works.  

“He thinks we should revert American into a mostly isolated, self-sustaining, ultra conservative, agriculture based nation.” says Franklin, again giving him a look, which he misses, because he’s still trying to digest that sentence.

“Does he just, not understand is a world power and we have our fingers in so many pies we couldn’t be self sustaining even if we cut those metaphorical fingers off?”

“I have no idea what goes through his head. He’s a phony scientist with a small fortune. But if you could avoid pissing off another person, it’s still awkward passing John Adams in the hall. You’ve been here eight days. Besides, Aarons looking at significant changes in penguin behaviors. You can’t get any better than that.”

Alexander thinks how it would be better to hit his head repeatedly against a wall, or run home to Washington, or maybe just swam dive (penguin dive??) into the frigid waters naked.

 

Then next day, he makes sure to do his hair nicely in two braids, and sits down across from Burr at the table. Burr looks up at the his shadow obscuring the thick book he’s holding. _Nerd,_ thinks Alexander, trying to push away the thoughts of how nice the Aaron looks in lilac purple thermal gear.

“I need your help,” Alexander says. “I want to do a story on global warming. A tell all on the proof and effects in a controlled environment. I’ve got a perfect shot. But I need you.”

“And?” asks Burr.

“And what?” asks Alexander.

“Well if you’re studying the effects it's not just my help. I’m not a full time resident. You need my penguins help.”

“Yes,” says Alexander through clenched teeth.

“You have to ask for it,” says Burr.

There’s a pause where Alexander considers his options. Then with a sigh, he says, “I need you and your penguins and your insight.”

“Okay. You’ve got it,” says Burr. He looks too damn satisfied. Alexander just sighs and eats his eggs. “We’ll be off in twenty if you can get your gear together in that time.”

 

Burr continues on a purple theme, with maroon and black snow gear. “It's annoying because Jefferson wears fuchsia. People get us confused, even though his choices are much more flashy.”

Alexander doesn’t get another word in, because he has to hop on the skidoo, squishing against Aaron's back. It's awkward to talk so he thinks of questions that might lead to what he knows. Now that he’s awake, he’s well aware Aaron is doing him a solid. At the very least he owes him some professionalism.

And they reach the penguins. And suddenly all Alexander's brain can produce is _Penguins!!!!!!!_ And then he looks to Burr, hopefully with the look of _Holy shit are you seeing this!_ In his eyes, translating through his goggles, because his entire face is covered with soft green fleece.

Burr just nods, eyes wide behind his goggles.  

The day is pleasant. Too pleasant. Burr fills his head with brilliant things about recent penguin behavioral responses to warmer weather. Changing in diets, number of children born, locations of milestones. It’s all right there. He’s brilliant. Alexander has a lot of respect for that.

Alexander takes notes on paper and he takes as many pictures as possible. He can see the full page spreads coming together. Graphs and charts. How he’ll combine with harder science. It all fits together.

He puts together a rough draft as soon as possible. He sends it off to Washington, for what information the man wants while it's all right outside.

“It's good. Its very good. I’m proud of you,” writes Washington attached to the document.

Alexander goes to Burr to thank him. Also with a notepad and pen for a few more questions. (And a couple of questions about Burr.)

“I’m a graduate student at Princeton,” says Burr.

Alexander does a mock gasp, “I’m a New York man, I don’t think this is going to work.” And Burr actually laughs. It's not even a good joke.

On things actually pertaining to penguins, Burr answers with all he knows. Like he’s trying to impress Alexander (as if Alexander isn’t trying to impress him right back. As if Alexander isn’t impressed already.)

“I’m actually a huge national geographic fan,” says Burr, after the research questions have been asked and answered.

“You would be,” says Alexander. “I mean, continue.”

“And I had an idea for a beautiful but labour intensive shot,” finishes Burr.

(Alexander ignores all possible interpretations of “labour intensive shot”, but his traitorous mind thinks _body shots body shots body shots.)_

“What are you thinking?”

“Like the sun does set, it just is so late and its short window of darkness. So if we took a rest now, so we aren’t over tired coming back in the dark, you could get some really spectacular pictures on the penguins on the ice and at sunset.”

“Thats, that’s an incredible idea Aaron,” says Alexander. “You’ll take me, right?”

“Does tonight work?” asks Burr, who is wearing a sheepish smile instead of his plain bland one.  

“Of course.” All Alexander can think is how a cute boy is asking him to watch a sunset.

 

Alexander gets as many shots as the camera will hold. Beautiful, dynamic photos. They are an effective mix of the melting ice and the huddled, scared looking penguins and the red yellow glow off it all. He gets his pictures because he’s a fucking professional. And he holds Burr’s, no Aaron's hand, because his heart is beating so hard it feels like he should be breaking through all six layers he's wearing. 

 

They kiss once the make it back to Aaron's room. Kiss is quite the right word but making out seems to juvenile but regardless, there are hickies to hide, later. It's takes embarrassingly long to get out of all their clothes. “Six fucking layers is making frostbite look worthwhile,” spits Alexander.

“Don't be like that baby, I like all your toes.” Aaron is surprisingly prepared. Condoms, but no lube. Alexander has a college trick of putting on condoms with his mouth. Aaron makes a glorious noise at that.

“Shit baby girl,” groans Aaron. Alex just nods slightly. Alexander blows him, Aaron isn’t too long, but thick enough to give him a bit of an ache in his jaw. It means Alexander can, after a few minutes spent adjusting and alternating his attentions to the head and underside of the shaft can take Aaron all the way down. And the noises the man makes, crosses between moans and gasps are glorious to hear. Alexander hums a bit and Aaron laces his hands through Alexander's long hair.

It's good. Aaron losses rhythm to his hips and politely warns Alex, “god baby girl, I'm gonna come.” Alex hollows his cheeks to help him over the edge.

Aaron ties off the condom and throws it away. “That was incredible,” says Aaron.

Alexander flushes, but he’s so hard it's almost painful, then says, “Praise later, orgasms now.”

That gets a laugh from Burr, who helps Alexander off the floor, sets him into a bruising pace as he strokes Alexander to completion.

They clean up quickly, all things considered, the sky is still dark through Aaron’s window. Alex nestled into the man's chest and is tired enough to slip almost into sleep right then and there. His feet are ever so slightly cold, but he's past content. Then, there's a pit in his stomach

“Aaron,” he says, softly. “I need to tell you something. I'm not proud of it.”

“Unless you're stealing my research it's nothing we can't work out,” says Aaron, pragmatic as ever.

Moment of truth:

“My last relationship ended because I cheated,” says Alexander.

“Oh,” says Aaron.

“On my wife,” says Alexander.

“Oh,” says Aaron.

“I'm not making excuses, but for context, we were married young  and it was weird and I loved her but I don't think I was ready but it was shitty and awful and she didn't deserve it.” He babbles on, the way he does. “There was no kids, thank god, because I don’t want to be that guy, but I fucked up bad.”

“Shhh, hey, hey,” assures Aaron. Then,  “it's, funny you should say that,” says Aaron with a bit strain in his voice. “Because I knowingly let a woman use me to cheat on her husband.”

“Oh my god,” says Alex.

“Yeah,” says Aaron, raises his hand to run his fingers through Alex’s hair.

“We are the worst,” declares Alex.

“Yeah,” says Aaron.

“I want to get it right this time,” says Alex.

“I think we already are,” says Aaron, “But I’ll make it right for you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They fall asleep right as the sun starts to come up through Aaron's window. They’re close enough to sleep to ignore it.

  


SIX MONTHS LATER

Somehow, they made it work. What they bring back from the frozen desert can live in New York. Aaron has teaching duties now the school year as started up again, but they have date nights and spend as much time together during the weekends. They’re cute, Alex knows it.

One night, they’re at Alex’s, eating Thai food and cuddling under blankets, each with a beer.

“You’ll never believe what I got in the mail today,” says Alex, untangling himself, presumably to get whatever it is Aaron won’t believe.

“Won’t I?” says Aaron, then after a beat, “It's not a bomb is it?”

“Honey, I told you I’m not actually that well known.” Aaron just frowns.

“It's a letter addressed to both of us sent to my apartment,” says Alex.

“Presumptuous of them.”

“Its from Ben Franklin,” continues Alex.

“Please don’t refer to him as Ben,” says Aaron.

“Alright, so Franklin sent us something.”

“Please just open it, the suspense is killing me,” deadpans Aaron.

Inside is just two polaroids. One of Aaron and Alexander half dressed in all their layers laughing at their table in the cafeteria. Its very cute.  It has messy scrawled sharpie saying “Lover boyz”, yes spelt like that.

“I’m keeping this in my wallet,” says Alex. Aaron says, “Good, because it sure as hell won’t get within fifty feet of my students if I want to maintain dignity.”

The second polaroid is a group of about seven adults, all naked, strategically covered in blankets to preserve nudity, with a least one box of condoms in the background, and by Alex’s count, no less than three bottles of lube. The sharpie says, “Wish you were here!” with a hand drawn smiley face.

“Oh my god,” says Aaron. The look on his face is too good, Alex can’t help but laugh and then.

“I love you,” says Alex.

“Oh good, because I love you too,” says Aaron. “But I’m not kissing you until we hid that picture.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts!! 
> 
> I love hating Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin was notorious for having orgies, global warming is real and serious and penguins are adorable. 
> 
> Also, both Burr and Ham are trashy for the cheating they partook in, and this isn't glorifying that. It's more like, these two assholes can hurt each other if anything were to go wrong.


End file.
